


Your heart is too strong, anyway

by holograms



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Dancing Lessons, M/M, Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 07:25:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7091461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holograms/pseuds/holograms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dancing with Alexander in his candlelit tent seems like something that should’ve been impossible, but here he is — awkwardly swaying back and forth with the man. It’s not that bad once they’ve started, except when Alexander keeps stepping on Aaron’s toes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your heart is too strong, anyway

“Are you a dancing man, Burr?” Alexander asks him, and Aaron responds as smooth as a waltz, “What civilized man isn’t?”

Alexander shrugs. “Me, apparently.”

Aaron raises his brows. “You’re civilized?” he asks, teasing. He doesn’t really know what possess him to say it — for his benefit of taking a jibe at Alexander, to cut him down, or to joke _with_ Alexander?

He gets his answer when Alexander grins at him, almost bashfully, and Aaron swears that it’s one the greatest things he’s ever seen.

And he did tell Alexander to _smile more_ , after all.

“You’re right,” Alexander says when the silence between them hangs, too palpable, too much there to pursue. “I’m not civilized. Me? I’m _wild_.”

Suddenly, Aaron wishes that Alexander would stop smiling. Not really, but. It would make it easier to look at him.

“I heard you’re settling down,” Aaron says, terse, because he desperately needs to change the subject; Alexander’s focused gaze is too much. “A Schuyler, huh?”

“Correct.” And then Alexander’s expression changes, forms into something perplexed, his smile gone.

Aaron misses it. 

Alexander continues, “Which brings me to my question.” He pauses, wrings his hands together as if he’s _nervous,_ which — Aaron has never seen Alexander Hamilton nervous. Anxious before a battle, worried as he watches the General pace, excited before he introduced himself for the first time to the prodigy of Princeton. But never nervous.

“Yes?” Aaron asks, prompting him. He waits. Wonders what Alexander could ask of him.

“Could you maybe perhaps teachmehowtodance?” Alexander asks, it all coming out in a rush. Then, slower, “I need to know how to dance. For my wedding. Can you show me how?” 

Definitely not what Aaron had been expecting.

“Why don’t you ask one of your friends?” Aaron asks.

“I didn’t ask one of my _other_ friends,” Alexander says, stressing the word as if it’s vital that Aaron knows that Alexander sees him as a friend as much as he does the others. “I didn’t ask them because you’re the most logical choice.”

“Logical?” Aaron scoffs. “I’m honored.”

“Yes,” Alexander says. “Mulligan is away on a mission, and besides, I’m sure he would say _hell no._ Lafayette is helpless at dancing — did you know Marie Antoinette laughed at him when she saw his dancing?”

“You don’t say.” 

“Yeah. So, needless to say, he’s not an option. And I can’t ask Laurens.” Alexander blinks and his face twists into an indecipherable expression, mouth tense, eyebrows furrowed, a downcast look in his eyes; he doesn’t elaborate  _why_ he can’t ask John Laurens how to dance, but Aaron doesn’t press.

“Anyway,” Alexander says, snapping out of his reverie. “That makes you the most logical choice. Like I said.”

“Ah, I see. I’m your last resort.” It stings more than Aaron would like to admit. 

Alexander is quick to backpedal when he realizes he’s put his foot in his mouth again, “No! It’s not like that. Damn. I mean—”

“It’s okay,” Aaron says, but.

It’s not okay.

Alexander clears his throat. “So, will you?” Aaron notices how Alexander’s face is flushed and then he realizes that Alexander is _embarrassed_ — ashamed of the reminder that he isn’t of the same status that he’s marrying into.

Aaron takes pity on him, heaves a sigh, says, “Okay, fine.”

A moment later, he’s glad he agreed because Alexander’s face lights up and Aaron can’t help but smile in return. However, it falls when Alex takes off his coat and tosses it in a chair, turns on his heel back to face him, and holds his arms out as if he’s waiting for instruction.

“Wait, you don’t mean _now,_ do you?” Aaron asks. He gestures around them like, _don’t you see where we are_? A tent in the middle of a military operation is not the place for dancing — and dancing with _Alexander_ , of all people. It doesn’t matter if they’re alone (for now), but still.

“There’s no time like the present,” Alexander says, taking a step closer to Aaron. “And I get married in, like, a week, so I need some lessons as soon as possible.”

“I don’t think—,” Aaron begins, but then Alexander closes the distance between them, puts his hand on the small of Aaron’s back to pull him close, and then grabs Aaron’s hand with the other and intertwines their fingers.

Aaron forces himself not to struggle out of Alexander’s hold. “You’re going to lead?”

“Did you really expect anything else?”

He has a point.

“Please, Burr,” Alexander says, quiet, and there’s an amount of desperation in his voice. “Help your fellow orphan not make a fool of himself.” 

“You’ll do that anyway,” Aaron says, but sighs, and places his hand on Alexander’s shoulder.

Dancing with Alexander in his candlelit tent seems like something that should’ve been impossible, but here he is — awkwardly swaying back and forth with the man. It’s not that bad once they’ve started, except when Alexander keeps stepping on Aaron’s toes. Alexander hums a song that Aaron doesn’t know, but it’s pleasant and soft in his ear, and they both move to the rhythm of it, one two three four, one two three four.

“Good, like that,” Aaron says, encouraging, despite he’s letting himself be led by Alexander. It’s worth it because Alexander glances to him and smiles, and god, it’s so bright that it makes Aaron’s chest ache. They’re close, so close that Aaron can feel his body heat and smell him (sweat and ink and something else), and he realizes that if wanted to kiss Alexander, he would have to tilt his head up slightly — it’s just something he notes, it’s not like it’s something that he is two counts of four away from doing, but— 

—the moment ends when Alexander tramples on his feet again.

“Shit, sorry,” Alexander says, but he laughs and buries his face into Aaron’s shoulder. He obviously finds this whole thing hilarious. 

It just makes Aaron sad. 

He isn’t sure why.

Eventually, Alexander ends his made-up song and gracefully spins Aaron out his hold, bows low as he kisses Aaron’s hand. Alexander’s eyes flit up to meet Aaron’s while his mouth is still against his skin, and Aaron can feel Alexander’s lips curl into a smile on him.

Aaron’s chest twinges again. Now he knows how Alexander charmed his bride-to-be.

“My lady,” Alexander says, mock flirtatious. Or not, it’s hard to tell.

Aaron scoffs, and tugs his hand away.

“Are you confident in your skills?” he asks. “Ready to sweep your wife off her feet?”

And Alexander, because he can never have enough, says, “I think I need another demonstration.”

Alexander offers his hand. Aaron takes it.

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron almost doesn’t go to the Hamilton—Schuyler wedding. _Almost_. He could give an excuse to Alexander later, _I apologize but I had reports to write, I wasn’t in town, I had something else to do,_ but none of seem like an important enough excuse.

“I didn’t think that you would make it,” Alexander says, throwing his arm around Aaron.

Aaron doesn’t tell him that he almost didn’t. He doesn’t want him to know that he almost wasn’t his choice.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Aaron says later, after Alexander has sent away his other friends. “I had to make sure that you didn’t step on the new Mrs. Hamilton’s toes.” 

Alexander laughs, loud. A few people turn around to look at them, and Aaron feels his face heat, but he has to admit there’s a component of pride there, knowing everyone is seeing him make Alexander laugh.

“She has smaller feet than you. They don’t get in the way,” Alexander says. “Her toes are unharmed.” 

“Good.”

They sit in silence for a few moments because Alexander is staring across the room at his wife. Alexander looks at her like she’s the most perfect thing in the world, and Aaron supposes that she must be wonderful, for Alexander to adore her that much.

“You know,” Alexander begins. “She asked me who taught me how to dance.”

“What did you tell her?” 

“The truth,” Alexander says. “That you’re the best dance partner in the whole army.”

“Damn it, Hamilton!”  It’s not a condemnation, but it’s unconventional, and that’s enough (and he doesn’t think about how he knows exactly how much he’d have to incline his head to put his mouth to Alexander’s). “If people knew we—”

Alexander waves his hand to quiet his worry. “Eliza will keep our secret,” he says, then lower, “She told me to thank you.”

“Then tell her _you’re welcome_ ,” Aaron responds. “It was my civic duty to make sure Alexander Hamilton can tear up the dance floor and dazzle all of New York’s finest society.”

Alexander’s mouth hitches into a smile. He holds out his hand. “Would you like a dance? For old time’s sake?”

It’s everything Aaron can do to keep from taking Alexander’s hand.

“I wouldn’t want to steal you from your lady,” Aaron says. “Perhaps another time.”

Alexander takes Aaron’s hand anyway, places a kiss against his knuckles.

“I’ll hold you to that promise,” Alexander says, mumbling it against his skin.

“Sure,” Aaron says, even though he knows he shouldn’t promise Alexander anything, but it’s too late — in more ways than one.

**Author's Note:**

> it's true that Marie Antoinette laughed at Lafayette's dance skills
> 
> fic title from "Stolen Dance" by Milky Chance
> 
> you can find me @[tumblr](http://acanofpeaches.tumblr.com)


End file.
